Eating the Silver Sandwich
by nevthebunny
Summary: A collection of oneshots centred around the life of Zuko, Prince of the Fire Nation.
1. Defining

**A/N This is just a little oneshot I threw together whilst procrastinating. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender (or Legend of Aang as us Brits call it.)**

Defining

All his life he has let words and names define him. Honour, status, what other people think. And all his life he has fallen so chronically short. All his life he has failed.

Zuko, son of Prince Ozai and Princess Ursa, Prince of the Fire Nation and rightful, true and deserving heir to the throne. That's what he wanted, strived to be.

He was never Zuko. It was Zuko-my-son or Zuko-the-Firelord's-grandson or Prince-Zuko. Just Zuko on its own was a naming privilege reserved for his mother and she was the only person ever to treat him as such. Everyone else had such high expectations.

So when he was younger, the first definition he tried to live up to was that which his sister easily filled: fire-bending prodigy, worthy. And no matter how hard he tried to push himself that bit further, he could never master the art as easily as she did. Instead of worthy he earnt disappointment.

He became Mummy's-boy-Zuko, Firelord's-failure-Zuko. Then that fateful night happened. Prince Ozai would have been perfectly willing, he knows that now. Ozai never really rated his son, it was the daughter he was proud of. Really, Prince Zuko should have died already, before this moment, at the hands of lightning just like this, at the hands of its caster.

Still he yearned to become the deserving heir, even if he was already technically Crown Prince. He went into a war meeting intent on going in as Firelord's-failure and coming out Firelord's-great-son but in that meeting he tried to be fair and just, failing to be cruel and ruthless as was expected of him. Instead of deserving he earnt frustration.

So then he tried for strong, powerful and all the things a son of the great Firelord should be instinctively. He was prepared to fight that General, perhaps he would have won. But his own father appeared and before he knew it he had earnt dishonourable instead of formidable.

Thinking over it in these last minutes, Zuko knows that it is quite the journey he has been on. So many crossroads, so many wrong turns. So many right turns.

After that he was the exiled Prince, stripped of his birthright. This could have been the chance he needed to become Just Zuko but he didn't want to take it. He still wanted honour and status, all those things he had been raised to believe he had a right to, he deserved.

Exiled-Prince-Zuko, scarred-dishonourable-Zuko travelled the world. He chased the Avatar up and down the globe in an attempt to regain these things he thought could just be awarded to him; like his honour would just return like that. Yet in this time, he lost him and also a part of himself. Instead of returning hero he earnt failure.

But his Uncle taught him a lot in their time together and even though they were close and Iroh a true father to confused-Zuko, he still held high expectations for the boy he saw as a son.

This Zuko strived to become a new man, a man worthy of his titles in his uncle's eyes. He also strived to make the perfect ginseng tea. He tried to gain acceptance among the people of another culture who were so different and yet so similar, all personally victimised by Firelord Ozai. And still, still he failed. They failed to see past the label, the name, Fire Nation. It was still part of who he was. Instead of good man he earnt outcast.

Then he found it. The redemption, honour and glory he had been so vainly searching for all his life. It wasn't what he wanted. It wasn't what he needed.

Zuko, Prince of the Fire Nation, son of Firelord Ozai and Princess Ursa, heir to the throne was no longer a naïve little boy. He had seen suffering, he had known suffering and he had seen how it was brought by men who were those things he had once striven to be. Princes and heirs, 'honourable' and strong men, they brought these happenings to fruition. They caused all this.

So he stopped caring what they thought. And no longer will he let words and names define him. Honour, status, what people think, what does it matter? Pain, suffering, justice, love: they matter. And so does he. Zuko, not the Crown Prince, the exile, the failure.

He shakes himself free. Free of judgement, free of oppression. He lets Zuko out and finally his father has heard him.

This is a defining moment if ever he saw one. Ozai's lightning is aimed for his heart, to kill the son who is such a disappointment but Zuko's uncle has taught him well.

He may not know it but Zuko will go on to make an excellent Firelord. For though he now no longer wants it, he no longer strives for it, he has unknowingly become that right and deserving heir.

For instead of being 'worthy' he learned perseverance. In the place of 'deserving' he learned kindness. Instead of formidable he learned mercy. Instead of 'returning hero' there was strength and instead of 'good man' he learned empathy and understanding.

And in freedom he has found the real Zuko who is all those things and all the things he once wanted to be. And he finally knows what it means to be happy.


	2. Fathers and Sons

**Disclaimer: I don't own Zuko or anyone else from Avatar: The Last Airbender. **

Fathers and Sons

As I write this I am beginning to embark upon the most frightening period of my life. Now, more than ever, I feel the gaping hole where my childhood should be and I am honestly scared. Now, more than ever, I am terrified of turning into my father.

The relationship between father and son has always been a mystery to me, although I know everything that it should not be. My wife has told me time and time again that this alone should influence my behaviour and prevent my biggest fear from coming to fruition.

And so I write this letter to you, my father. I know I will never send it because you will never understand my words; what would be the point? But perhaps in addressing everything that was wrong with us I may assuage my own doubts.

'Azula was born lucky. You were lucky to be born.' That was what you told me. You always favoured her: the prodigy, the naturally gifted, and the complete reflection of yourself. Whereas I, I was different. From birth I had to struggle and fight the fates for the slightest of things. A father's love was one of those. It shouldn't have been. Yet no matter what I did you maintained I was lucky, lucky but not gifted.

What kind of a father would willingly sacrifice his own son for power? I'll admit I may not have been what you expected or yearned for in a son. I was no ideal heir and certainly did not seem to be exhibiting any signs of becoming the typical fearless leader the Fire Nation prided itself on but I was trying. All I ever wanted was to please you, father, and yet still you saw me as expendable.

I wish I knew more about the circumstances. I wish I could take myself out of the panicked child's brain I am so familiar with. When I was younger I used to pretend that you would never have gone through with it (Azula always lies. Azula always lies.) Sometimes I'd pretend that you orchestrated the whole sordid affair that terrible night to save me. Sometimes I could even see it as an awful dilemma brought on by poor regretted decisions and made for the good of the country. Those times are over now; I am no idiot, father. I know that these wishes are just the musings of a lonely boy, desperate to see good in his father.

But still, were you in on mother's alleged plot? Were you really intending to kill me? Did mother really kill grandfather? These are all questions I long to have answers to but I know I shall never ask; some things are best left alone, that is one of the few lessons you managed to teach me.

The other sunk in slightly deeper. I learnt first-hand from you that life is hard. It wants to make you suffer. Well, it never seemed to want you to suffer, just me. I thought fighting through everything you could throw at me would let me earn your love. Somehow I figured it was _my_ fault. It was because I was a bad son, a bad heir. It was because Azula was more talented; she didn't have to go through this. It was a test to prove I was worthy and _honourable_.

I tell you now, father, that is one mistake I will never make. A young boy should never ever have to worry about such complex and downright harsh issues as honour and worth. A young boy should learn honour by watching his father's actions and feel worth every day. I never did. Not for one moment.

I suppose I was lucky that you were never the man I looked up to and aspired to be. My young mind knew that your elder brother was perhaps the one person you feared and to me fear and respect were synonymous; they had to be. He taught me the true meaning of honour after you taught me the true meaning of pain.

In many ways it could be said that I have had the ideal parenting team. After all, between the three of you you got me where I needed to be. You made me who I am and that is what being a parent is all about. But you weren't there for me. You were hateful and uncaring. Mother left. Uncle was ten years too late.

And sometimes I cannot help but feel sorry for you, despite everything. You put me through hell. You drove my mother away. You crushed my uncle's spirits and turned my sister to insanity. And for the rest of time you will rot in that cell for it.

But, father, what examples did you have to learn from? What pain and suffering taught you how to be a better father than the one you had? Grandfather was not a pleasant man, though he wasn't a monster like you. That must have been difficult too.

Yet when I find myself slipping into pity I think of two things. Firstly, I worry for we are not so different. You were also the least favourite. You also inherited the throne from your father. Then I stop worrying because I know that if I pity you, if I empathise with you for just one second then I will never be like you. Empathy is not an emotion you possess. Nor are despair, agony or happiness.

I suppose I ought to thank you, this has helped me, after all.

Thanks to you, father, I broke the mould. Thanks to you I am happily married and seated on the throne. Thanks to you the world is at peace. And thanks to you I am going to be a great father when the next moon rolls around.

Because you taught me everything I know. You taught it by counter-example.

Because, thanks to you, I know what not to be.


End file.
